


Juniper

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-02
Updated: 2007-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for Hogwarts Elite's Term 12 Fiction Contest #1. The prompt: <em>Write a story about a witch or wizard who lived before the statute of secrecy went into effect. Obviously, you cannot use a main character for this, but you are welcome to use canon characters who lived in 1692 or earlier, and you may make up ancestors to Marauder- and Trio- era characters! Entries must be at least 500 words, see link for more rules.</em></p><p>HP-historical fic, following a witch named Juniper Pomfrey from 1653 (when she is aged eight) through to 1692.</p><p>Dedicated to my Puffs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juniper

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

** _1653_ **

'Daddy, Cat stopped breathing!' Juniper Pomfrey offered the tiny furry bundle to her father, tears standing in her eyes. 'Help her!'

James Pomfrey took the kitten from his daughter, already murmuring the spell to coax life back into it. He knew that Juniper would have wasted no time in bringing it to him, but even the few minutes it had taken to find him had been too long. He shook his head and laid the kitten gently on the grass, opening his arms to pull Juniper close as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

'I'm sorry, darling.'

'It's not _fair_!' She nestled up to him and pounded her fist against his shoulder; it had little effect, but James understood her passion and her anger. 'Why does anyone have to be hurt? Why do they have to live in pain? Why do they have to _die_?' She pulled back a little and glared up at him. 'I'm going to learn to be a healer like you, Daddy, and then I can fix cats _myself_.'

James hugged her close. 'If that's what you want to do, my dearest daughter, then I know you can do it.'

* * *

** _1659_ **

Juniper looked up at the light rap of knuckles against the doorframe. 'Mama,' she said. 'I haven't missed dinner, have I?'

'Not yet, but you should come down soon. Your father's home.' Anything else that Anne Pomfrey might have said was lost in her daughter's inelegant whoop and the thunder of her feet on the stairs.

'Daddy!'

'Juni!' James caught Juniper and lifted her off her feet. 'Oof, you're too big for that!' He set her down and grinned at her. 'What were you doing hidden away in your room?'

'Studying.'

'On your Midwinter break? Your teachers should be ashamed of themselves, setting homework when we've the Longest Night to celebrate.'

'It isn't homework, James. She's doing it all of her own accord,' Anne said. 'I can't get her nose out of a book for five minutes at a time. I see you both little enough as it is, what with you away at the hospital and her at Hogwarts.'

James shook his head. 'That reminds me, I meant to tell you both – I've some bad news.'

'What is it, Daddy?'

'Mungo Bonham's passed away. You remember, Juni, he founded St. Mungo's. He was ninety-nine, though. A good life. He did good things.' James bit his lip and Anne put an arm around his shoulder.

Juniper could remember Mungo Bonham; an imposing man with an infectious laugh, he had been dreadfully busy on the day that James had taken her to the hospital to see how things worked there, but had had time to tell her that her father worked hard and was an asset to the hospital.

'I'm going to be a healer too,' she had said.

'Honey, with your daddy to guide you, you'll be a great one.'

And now here she was, fourteen years old, reading herself into a headache almost every night despite her mother's protests, squinting in the lantern light until Anne came into her room and shut the book and blew the lantern out, a pointed reminder that Juniper needed to rest from time to time.

* * *

** _1665_ **

'Juniper Pomfrey?'

Juniper lifted her head, blinking exhaustion from her eyes, and stumbled to her feet. 'Can I help you, sir?'

The face she saw by the candlelight was kind, marked with the same lack of sleep that dogged them all. 'My name's Thomas Derwent, I was asked to come and find you. Will you come with me?'

They hurried through the dark streets, passing only the occasional person: robed and hooded, the long, sweet-smelling cones of herbs strapped to their faces, the pair of them were a fearsome sight, and though there were some people who were grateful for their help, there were more people who were terrified of the plague doctors and the ill news they too often brought.

'Where are we going?' Juniper asked.

A man spat at her from the shadows; she jumped back and Thomas caught her elbow to steady her. 'Begone!' he said, and the man vanished down a side lane. 'Harbingers of death, some call us – frauds, charlatans, but what can we do but our best?'

'It isn't enough. It will never be enough.'

Thomas stopped outside a sturdy wooden building. It took Juniper a moment to place it, but then it came to her: St. Mungo's. She had hurried to London to do her best for the ever-increasing number of plague victims, so hadn't seen the hospital since she was a little girl, since her father had brought her in to see the place where he worked. It looked like any non-magical hospital, and indeed it had to, because magic-users were all Satan's imps and were to be feared – according to anyone who wasn't a magic-user, that was.

The stench of death, strong in the streets, was stronger inside the hospital. Juniper was glad of the herbs. They were useless as a preventative against the plague, but the good smells of sage and rosemary and basil kept out the bad smells of – of everything else. Of filth, and open sores, and of hopelessness.

It wasn't until Thomas led her to a tiny room on the second floor and moved quietly away that Juniper realised he had not told her why she was here.

They lay terribly still and small in the bed, side by side, joined in death as in life. Her father, St. Mungo's best healer, defeated at last by that which he had worked so hard to thwart; her mother, who had come to London to offer what nursing skills she had to ease the passing of those whom her father could not redeem.

Juniper lifted her father's wrist to feel for a pulse and a spark of hope momentarily ignited within her at the warmth of his skin, but quickly faded as she found no beating of life there. Her mother was the same; they must have only just crossed over to whatever awaited them.

'I'm so sorry.'

Thomas was at the door. He could not have gone very far.

'They were still alive when I came to find you. Your father was the one who bade me go. He told me to tell you that he loved you.'

Juniper took a step towards him, stopped, and simply stood by the bed with her head hanging and her arms dangling, like a marionette with the strings cut. She heard him cross the room to her and then his arms were around her, strong and sure, and she lifted her own arms and clung to him.

'I'm sorry,' he said again, his voice a rumble in his chest that Juniper felt rather than heard. His heartbeat was steady, as was his breathing. Two things she would never take for granted again. They couldn't stop the plague; they didn't even know what had caused it. The best that they could do was to keep people as comfortable as possible until the end.

She slipped free of his arms and, turning, pulled the bedsheet gently up over her parents' faces.

'We have a lot of work to do,' she told Thomas. 'We should get started.'

* * *

** _1666_ **

The pall of smoke hung low over the houses, but all Juniper could do was knot a strip of cloth over her nose and mouth to keep the worst of it out and keep working. Her fingers were covered in pus from broken blisters, and soot because the soot was everywhere, in the water, on the few scant rags they had as bandages, and on her skin. She had forgotten how to rest. All her body knew was the words and the actions, over and over, automatically soothing her patients, casting spells to heal the blackened and cracked skin, pouring cool water over minor burns, the furtive touch of her wand. It wasn't safe. If she were caught... but she had to keep going, because as wrong as it was that witches were thought to be evil, the true evil would be to step aside and let the plague and the fire take so many innocent lives when she could save them, when she could help them.

'Juni, you have to stop.'

She mumbled a negation through the cloth and moved to the next writhing, squealing body.

'Juni. The fire is _here_.' She felt Thomas's hand on her arm and pulled away. The next thing she knew was air under her feet as he lifted her. She tried to kick him, but he held on.

'You can't help them if you're dead.'

The heat turned her face red as he carried her swiftly out of the door and down the street. She never knew what happened to her patients, but she could guess.

Her eyes were too dry for tears, but her chest hitched and heaved. Thomas held her, talking to her softly; she couldn't quite make out the words over the roar of the flames, but the further they got from the fire, the more audible he became.

'You can't do this alone, Juni, you're only twenty-one, you can't be everyone's strength. Let me be your strength, love.'

* * *

** _1683_ **

Now she could understand why the mothers she'd midwifed for protested so much. It felt rather as if a belt studded with spikes had been cinched around her waist and was being drawn tighter with every breath. Whyever did some women have more than one baby? It defied all common sense, really...

She breathed and pushed and pushed and breathed, acutely aware of Thomas hovering near her head and her actual midwife coaxing her to push once more, just once more...

And then there was a rush of fluid and blood and mess and, in the middle of it all, baby. Her baby, her precious baby girl.

Once everything was cleaned up and the midwife gone, Juniper smiled wearily at Thomas. 'Well, we did it.'

'I think you did most of it.'

'And don't you forget it.'

'Can I hold her?'

He ended up holding both of them, curled up on the big double bed, one arm around Juniper's shoulders, tickling the baby's toes with his free hand.

'It's times like this that we can forget about all that's bad in the world,' he said.

'That's not very optimistic, Thom.'

'I know, but – oh, you know what I mean. Most people are just a little superstitious, but you never know when another Matthew Hopkins is going to turn up and start poking people with pins or whatnot.'

Juniper's mouth set in a determined line as she looked down at her sleeping daughter. 'I'm going to do whatever I can for as long as I can,' she said. 'I can't live my life knowing people are suffering when I could help them.'

* * *

** _1692_ **

Juniper tucked her wand back into her sleeve and then dabbed at her eyes with her last clean handkerchief. It wasn't enough, though. She ducked back through the elaborately carved stone archway and down a side corridor, into one of the rooms that had so recently been occupied. She sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself, and her sniffles quickly became full-blown sobbing.

'Juniper, there you are. We've – what's wrong?' Thomas crossed the dark room to sit beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. 'Juni, what's the matter?'

'It just doesn't seem _fair_,' Juniper said, blowing her nose. 'They're every bit as entitled to help as – as one of _us_, and they don't have nearly the same level of ability as we do to heal.'

'We have to let them learn, though – they can't rely on us forever.'

'But it's not _fair_!'

'No,' Thomas conceded, 'it's not. But... well, you don't want Dilys and Edward growing up in an orphanage somewhere because you've been...'

'Don't say it. I know what you mean, but don't say it.' Juniper was silent for a moment. 'I could almost hate them.'

'Juniper Derwent, you don't mean that. You know that people get afraid of things they don't understand. We helped as best as we could for as long as we could, and that's what matters. Maybe there'll be a day when the doors of St. Mungo's can open to everyone again, witch, wizard, or not. But for now we need to look after our own kind.'

'Our own kind is _people_, Thom.' Juniper twisted her fingers into the black and yellow scarf around her neck and heaved a long sigh. 'Come on. Let's go home.'

They walked out into the fading light of the setting sun and stood for a moment, watching the wizards walking the bounds of St. Mungo's, casting spell after spell, making it unplottable, unseeable to non-magical eyes, closing it off.

When they reached their home, Dilys ran to meet them at the front gate, clutching a furry bundle in her arms. 'Mummy! Daddy! Kitty's not breathing!'

Juniper took the kitten from her daughter. She could feel the warmth under the fur, and pressed the tip of her wand against the tiny creature's chest, remembering when, thirty-nine years ago, she had been the one waiting anxiously to see if the spell would work.

This time, it did.

Dilys took the kitten back and buried her face in its fur. 'Thank you!' She fussed over the kitten for a few more moments as the three of them walked into the house, and then announced, 'I'm going to learn to be a healer like you so I can help people too!'

Juniper smiled. 'If that's what you want to do, my dearest daughter, then I know you can do it.'


End file.
